Prime Originator - Chapter 72 - Do You Want To Walk?

Reincarnated with major advantages selected in haste. The new world is vast and hostile...a world almost infinite in scope. Essentially a Dyson Sphere created by magic and sustained by magic. A World Sphere. Can the MC delve into the mysteries of the sphere?

He was an extremely wealthy CEO. His hobbies were clinging to his wife and pampering her to the extreme.One day, the bodyguard reported, “Sir, Madam went to chase her ex-fiancé!”“Sir, Madam confessed her love for her ex-fiancé on a global livestream!”“Change the photos and names to mine!”“Sir, Madam went to the hospital to have an abortion!”The incredibly handsome and wealthy man couldn't contain his anger.“Bring Madam back to me, and take good care of her! No, stop! I'm going to get her myself!”After marriage, Su Fu glared at her possessive husband.“Let's divorce; this life is unbearable!”Shangguan Ling smirked.“So what if it's unbearable? Whoever leaves, loses! I'll give you the property, our child, and myself! Wherever you go, I'll go too!”

Xia Ruofei, a retired special warfare elite, unexpectedly discovered that the ancestral scrolls contained a small space that was independent.

There are Lingtan waters that promote plant growth in the space. There are mysterious spiritual flowers that cure all diseases. They also bring ten times the time flow rate. What is planted is a fine product, everything grows fast, and what can be cultivated is spiritual…

From then on, planting flowers, planting trees, raising animals, and licking beautiful women, Xia Ruofei opened a wonderful life.

- Description from ptwxz (translated)

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”